


Hungry Eyes

by Lazulia



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien genitalia, Centaurian biology, Hands-free Orgasm, Kinda, Kraglin likes the pouch, M/M, Mirror Sex, Nipple Play, Pouch Play, Sex, These two are totally kinky space husbands, Voyeurism, change my mind, giftfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazulia/pseuds/Lazulia
Summary: A promise is a promise, especially when it involves a mirror, some nipple/pouch action, and a very adventurous first mate.





	Hungry Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endwigasst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endwigasst/gifts).

> A belated birthday gift for Write_like_an_American, and a side gift for endwigasst, who both expressed interest in a little throwaway line in my previous fic, about Kraglin working up Yondu with nothing but his hands in the pouch, and a mirror to boot. Featuring Alien Genitalia™ Yondu, pouch nipples, and Kraglin being kinkster Kraglin who totally loves his cap'n. 
> 
> I will write tender loving Kraggles until the heat death of the universe. Fight me.

“What the fuck.”

It’s not a question. 

Yondu stares dubiously at his reflection in the full-length mirror. The image becomes clearer by the second as Kraglin lovingly runs a cloth over it, dusting away like maintenance is part of his job description and not a punishment for being a tad too lippy. 

“You did promise, Cap’n.”

The answering snarl has no bite. Yondu stands, hands on hip, posturing away like his reflection might roll over and cower if he strikes just the right level of intimidation in his pose. For a split second, Kraglin could swear it does.

“Was I drunk?” Yondu hasn’t yet found a way to break the damn thing, accidentally or otherwise, which Kraglin takes as a small victory. He catches Yondu twisting a bit, like he’s trying to see if his jacket’s looking good or if he’s put on a few since the last time he had the occasion to check himself out in something shiny. 

“You might have been, but that don’t change things. A promise is a promise, ain’t it?” Kraglin’s enjoying himself far too much. 

The mirror’s a full-length deal with a tarnished frame, something they had kicking around in the vault from a past job, something they’d probably intended to sell at some point. The glass doesn’t need more than a quick dusting, but Kraglin’s planning on thoroughly enjoying himself, and that includes adding a flair for the dramatic to his preparations. He polishes the frame and wipes away every smudge while Yondu stands there with no rebuttal. After all, he promised. 

Kraglin’s made sure it’s nice and propped up, a couple feet from the bed. It’s a pretty solid thing, this mirror. Might even stand up to having a trinket or two tossed at it in a fit of rage or passion or rage-induced passion. Who was to say which way the night would go? 

“There we go,” Kraglin says, unnecessarily but hey. _Flair_. He stands behind Yondu, who’s still glaring at his reflection, staring right into those garnet-red eyes while he peels off his captain’s coat. 

He doesn’t remember Yondu being drunk when he agreed to this, but when a man has Kraglin’s cock shoved up inside him, hanging halfway off the bed and teetering on the edge of the orgasm… it’s _possible_ that Yondu’s judgment was a tad impaired at the time. He’d probably have agreed to let Kraglin fuck him on the bridge, which Kraglin just might try to ask, next time he’s feeling daring. 

He’s feeling awfully daring right now. Yondu’s clearly wishing his first mate would wilt under his glare and leave him the fuck alone already, but he’s shit out of luck if he thinks threats of bodily harm would deter Kraglin. 

Not when he’s working his way through the layers, unbuttoning Yondu’s shirt, peeling away fabric and treating himself to handfuls of naked blue skin. It’s freaking cute the way Yondu squirms in the mirror. The man’s got zero qualms about strutting around naked in their cabin, to Kraglin’s constant delight, but the moment he’s being made to stare at his bare chest while Kraglin strokes his pecs and ribs and stops at the edge of his pouch… sure, yeah, _now_ he’s feeling shy. 

It’s cute though. Even cuter, when Kraglin presses teeth to Yondu’s neck and watches him glow a nice shade of indigo when he whispers, “Look atchu, sir. Wanted you to see what I see, every time I get you nekkid. You look damn good, sir.”

“Shut up.” Yondu squirms again, looks away just as Kraglin works his fingers against the fold on his upper abdomen. ‘Cause this wasn’t just about the mirror, nope. Maybe Kraglin was whispering a whole lot of filth last week when he asked for this, and got lucky when Yondu said yes to two things: the mirror, and letting Kraglin work him up with his hands inside his pouch, no touching the other fun bits. 

Probably Yondu thinks he won’t succeed, or he’ll give up and just throw his cap’n to the bed and fuck him until he screams. Problem is, Yondu’s forgetting one thing: Kraglin’s not the antsy sort, not when he’s got his eyes on a prize. 

Speaking of prizes. 

Kraglin’s staring right at Yondu’s face while he slides his fingers under the pouch. The skin’s tight against his hand and hot like a brand, but he’s done this before, and knows how far into the velvety-softness he needs to dip before feeling the pebbled texture of a nipple. There’s four in there, and he gives each a careful tweak, just loving the way Yondu’s belly quivers against his hand and heaves a little faster under his rapidly raspier breaths. 

He’s not looking at the mirror, himself, or Kraglin, especially not when Kraglin palms him through his pants with his other hand, pressing little circles into the worn-soft leather like he can just finger-fuck his way right through the material, if he tries hard enough. 

“This getting you wet, sir? I bet it is. I can feel you gettin’ all hot and bothered already… wish you’d take a look in the mirror there, and see how good it looks.”

“Jus’ get on with it,” Yondu slurs. He doesn’t stop panting, not when Kraglin slides his hand out of the pouch and works open his belt. He certainly doesn’t look in the mirror when Kraglin dips both hands inside, tickling slick folds and kneading thick thighs and letting the motions work his pants free until they slide down with a lusty rasp of leather. 

Kraglin lets Yondu kick the pants off and then walks them backwards towards the bed, using the mirror as a guide so he doesn’t hit the edge of the mattress and backflip out of sight. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s accidentally performed aerial maneuvers during sex, but he’s trying to look at least a little dignified and in charge here. 

He lets go of Yondu, but it’s only for a second while he drags his zipper down and shimmies out of his leather in one complete, smooth move. His cock bobs happily and finds a cozy spot between Yondu’s ass cheeks while Kraglin guides him back to the bed. For all his bitching, Yondu’s letting him do whatever without protest, probably because he’d have to focus on the mirror to properly complain. He’s all pliant and kind of, well, _sweet_ as Kraglin pulls him to sit on the bed, back to chest so that Kraglin’s lanky pink body is almost completely eclipsed by blue. Sweaty, squirming, slightly reluctant blue. 

Not too reluctant, not so much that Kraglin can’t coax him to plant his feet on the bed and spread his legs nice and wide. Kraglin simultaneously slides a hand inside the velvet-hot pouch and finds a nipple, and worms his way between Yondu’s wide-spread thighs to pull on either side of his slit. And _fuck_, the view in the mirror makes his cock shiver and leak. Too bad it’s trapped between his belly and Yondu’s lower back. The blue skin burns bright like a furnace, tacking against Kraglin’s hairy hide every time Yondu shifts. 

Which he’s doing, in abundance. Kraglin can feel the minute pulses and clenches against his fingertips, which are threatening to lose their grip on the plump lips as slick dribbles out. He can see it in the mirror, the glossy shine all nice and bright, dripping slowly as Kraglin wanders to another nipple in the pouch and rolls it slow and hard. 

It drags a noise out of Yondu, a low rumbling whine that Kraglin feels against his flesh when Yondu kicks his head back and narrowly misses bruising Kraglin’s jaw with the implant, rolling his hips in urgent little circles. 

“You oughta look in the mirror, sir.”

Yondu doesn’t. He trades the rumble for a proper moan when Kraglin worries the edge of a nipple with his thumbnail, but he’s still not looking. 

The reluctance is kinda cute. Yondu’s not _shy_, hell no, what the fuck are you talking about. As a sort of compromise, he rolls his head back and Kraglin can suddenly feel Yondu’s eyes right on him, like laser bouncing off the polished surface. It’s the safest place for him to look; the span of the mirror is taken up by the spread of his body, so he’s got to choose between staring at his wide-open legs or the crumbling emotions on his face. Focusing on Kraglin’s pale little fuzzface poking over a blue shoulder is the safest bet. 

“Look at you, sir. You don’t get to look at this too often, do ya? You need a mirror for that, if you want to see what I see every time I get down there.”

He tracks Yondu’s eyes in the mirror, and smiles with a secret little thrill when Yondu actually looks down, looking at the plump folds with the tiniest push of his hips. It’s over in a flash, and again he finds Kraglin’s eyes. “You just gonna talk about it, or are you going to stick something in there?”

It’s a damn shame he’s got to let go of the folds, letting the skin settle back until the slit’s almost invisible, tucked away in the shadows of glossy indigo flesh.

He’s got another secret cranny in mind. Yondu stiffens, face scrunching up when Kraglin dabbles at the lip of his pouch. They don’t stay there long. Kraglin pops two fingertips in his mouth, licking at them nice and slow while Yondu stares dubiously at him. 

“Not there. Here. You promised, remember? Promised I could make you fall apart real nice with my fingers in here.”

_In here_ is the scalding-hot depths of the pouch, nipples peaked hard like hot little pebbles under Kraglin’s fingertips. He presses a fingertip to each indigo nipple, rolling nice and slow. The skin of the pouch stretches taut under his hands, and he’d worry about stretching it all out of shape if the thing wasn’t designed to hold a baby, which is another arousing imaging altogether. 

Instead the skin moves like Kraglin’s rooting around under tightly-drawn fabric, moving in time to the slow little tweaks, but that’s not what he’s looking at. He’s looking between Yondu’s wide-spread legs, at the shiny slick practically dribbling onto Kraglin’s lap. More than anything, it’s proof that Yondu’s getting into this, no matter how much he bitches about the whole setup. Almost makes Kraglin wish he’d bargained for more naughty stuff, but one kink at a time. 

“Yeah, there we go,” Kraglin drawls. He goes for the bottom nipples, gives them a little pinch, then soothes them with a little tickle. He hears the rough swallow of Yondu trying his damnest to keep some obscene noises silent. “That feel good? Think you can come from this? I bet you can. Wish you’d look at yourself already, sir, see how hungry for it you are. It’s hot.”

“Sh-shut up about the mirror! Gonna smash that damn thing when we’re done...”

There isn’t much doubt in Kraglin’s mind that he can do this. His own nips are dull zones for the most part, unless Yondu’s using a judicious application of teeth, but when they’re going at it with Kraglin’s cock deep inside and all Yondu needs is a little extra push, a hand to the pouch and a tweak of the nipples hiding inside is all it takes. 

He’s only just started flicking his thumbs nice and quick against the top nubs when Yondu twists in his lap, grabbing Kraglin’s wrist hard. “No, no, no…”

Kraglin stops, because he’s not an asshole, even though he suspects Yondu doesn’t really mean it. They worked out a system and a safe word ages ago, and even though they’ve only used it three times, combined. “Want me to take my hands out, sir?”

“… Feels weird.” Yondu’s reply is a low mutter. He lets go of Kraglin’s hand, which Kraglin takes as permission to start up again, rubbing slow to build things up. 

“Feels different, don’t it? I think you oughta just let it happen.” 

It is different from their usual flavor, Kraglin’s gotta admit that. Must be easier for Yondu when he can rut with Kraglin’s cock inside him and growl and pound and scratch, instead of sitting there with all the attention and Kraglin being all sweet. 

It’s not in Yondu’s nature to give or accept anything sweet. He wonders if Yondu knows he’s allowed to bark out the safe word if it’s too much to handle, even when there’s no pain involved. 

He’s letting it happen though, breathing hard like he’s run a marathon from one end of the ship to the other, sweat-slick while he twists against Kraglin’s chest. As much as the flesh is meant to stretch, the pouch is tight against Kraglin’s hand, so much that he can feel the steady battering of Yondu’s pulse while he pinches and rolls and slips his teeth into the blue meat of Yondu’s shoulder, just to distract a bit from what’s happening below. 

“Aw, _fuck!_”

“No, Cap’n. No touchin’, now.” He saw that, Yondu’s hand inching towards his folds. A couple of fingers in there would do the trick in seconds, Kraglin can tell. He’s getting so damn close. 

“Fuck!” Yondu curls his hand into a fist and punches Kraglin’s thigh. Not hard. Just enough to divert the tension. 

Yondu’s jittery now, shunting his ass half a foot off the bed, pushing his belly into Kraglin’s grasp, squirming away when it’s too much. Again and again, he punches Kraglin’s thigh, then figures he might as well use the skinny appendage as leverage, and digs deep into the flesh to help push himself up. 

“Won’t be long,” Kraglin promises, a silky-hot murmur right into Yondu’s ear. The inside of the pouch is like a furnace, and Kraglin digs around to settle his hands into final position: fingertips flicking the lower nubs, thumbs rolling slow and light over the top ones. That oughta do it. “Jus’ relax into it, sir. Take a look, c’mon. See what I see.”

He knows the moment Yondu’s about to come. He knows, because he can see it in the mirror, locking eyes with Yondu at long last and just _watches_ the way his whole body stops moving and seizes up, jaw clenching and soaked folds twitching. 

“F-f-uck! Krag--!” The next noise is deep, wordless, and shockingly sincere as Yondu comes. He writhes all over Kraglin’s lap, aimless without something to grind his crotch on while he comes. 

Kraglin holds him through it, lets him shake his way through it until it’s all done, until he slaps Kraglin’s hands out of his pouch. Just as well, because Kraglin needs his hands to brace himself against the bed when Yondu goes limp, sweaty and pliant against him. The cool air of the room feels weird against his hands, compared to where they were just wedged. “Told ya you could do it, didn’t I?”

Yondu grunts, still panting, pressing a palm to his abdomen like it’s sore. It must be sensitive as hell in there, but he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. He’s thinking something through, and Kraglin knows he’s looking in the mirror, because those plush blue thighs squirm shut, self-consciously. Kraglin squirms a bit impatiently, pretends it’s a coincidence when the dribbling head of his cock firmly wedges itself against Yondu’s spine. 

“We can take it down, now, if ya want.” Kraglin leans to the side and props their combined weight on one arm, dropping the other on Yondu’s thigh, hoping to generate a little interest in round two. Yondu’s legs drop open at the touch, just a little bit. Never takes him long to get worked up again, and he’s definitely worked up again. Kraglin can see the dewy smear of slick as he slowly drags his legs apart, and Kraglin’s throat bobs when he realizes Yondu’s _looking_. “You, uh, can smash it, if that’s what you want to do. I guess we oughta just be careful about gettin’ glass everywhere, wouldn’t want to drop shards in the bed and get one stuck in my ass or--”

“Nah.” Yondu digs right into those hairy thighs again, slithering off the bed until he’s on his knees. He’s got his back to the mirror but Kraglin doesn’t miss the way he shunts off to the side a little bit, curling his fingers around Kraglin’s cock. Moist breath puffs against the head when Yondu speaks, all casual-like. “I reckon we can hang on to it a bit longer.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Gimme some of those sweet, sweet comments! <3 Also... hey, no promises, but taking suggestions is fun so if anyone's got something on their Kragdu wishlist, let me know and we'll see what happens!_


End file.
